


Eternal

by Batik



Series: Music to their ears [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batik/pseuds/Batik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John tells Sherlock how he feels, if not in so many words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, I got a song stuck in my head. This is me trying to get it out. Warnings for the possibility that it now will be stuck in yours. And thanks to [Nichellen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&query%5Btext%5D=nichellen), [Kryptaria](http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&query%5Btext%5D=kryptaria)  
> , [Roane72](http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&query%5Btext%5D=roane72) and [Beautifulfiction](http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&query%5Btext%5D=beautifulfiction) for reassuring me that I could post this without threat of being run out of the fandom!

Standing there in the living room of 221b and facing Sherlock, their bodies not touching yet far closer than standard rules of personal space would allow with anyone else, John was tense.

No, not tense. Alert. That was it. His entire body, every nerve ending, was humming with the moment.

He suddenly realized it was almost literally a hum as the words to an ’80s pop ballad flooded his brain. A bit horrified, John still found the lyrics nearly perfect for the moment. He was almost certain Sherlock wouldn’t get the reference — surely he had deleted, if he’d ever known, a No. 1 pop hit from April 1989 — and John was glad, because the tune supplied him with words when his brain was fully occupied with managing all of his nerve endings.

“Close your eyes, Sherlock; give me your hand,” John said, mentally but not verbally adding the “darling” that followed in the song. Not that it wasn’t how he felt, but he worried it was just a bit too soon to speak it. Besides, while his mind supplied many affectionate terms for Sherlock, “darling” wasn’t really at the top of his list — or anywhere close. “Love,” “git,” “idiot” held the top spots, and he didn’t yet have the right to speak his top choice.

Sherlock complied, but not before giving John one of those searingly intense gazes with which John was so familiar. (Sherlock really should get that look copyrighted or patented or something, though he really didn’t need to worry that anyone would ever be able to duplicate it with such success, John thought.)

Sherlock lifted his right hand, open palm up, their closeness preventing the need for any extension of his arm. John gently took the offered hand in his own hands, feeling with his fingers the delicate lines of bone tracing across its back and with his thumbs the warmth in the palm’s slight cavity. John then twisted and flattened Sherlock’s palm and long, graceful fingers against his chest, not far from his scarred shoulder. His grip was careful but firm, holding Sherlock’s hand in place with both of his own.

“Do you feel my heart beating, Sherlock?” John asked. “Do you understand?”

John knew it was a ridiculous question. Of course Sherlock understood. How could he not? Having Sherlock so near had quickened John’s heartbeat even before they touched, before he had taken Sherlock’s hand. With that hand now held over his heart, warming his skin even through the fabric of his shirt and vest, John’s heart was skittering just a bit. Its rhythm remained solid but also positively danced with giddiness and just a bit of lingering uncertainty.

John thought he knew the answer to the next question, but he couldn’t be sure until he heard it from Sherlock.

“Do you feel the same, Sherlock?”

John searched Sherlock’s face for clues as he spoke the words, grateful for Sherlock’s closed eyes as his own hungrily took in every line and angle of that beautiful face. This close, he could see the details in the lines around Sherlock’s eyes, the creases and contours of his lips, the faintest trace of stubble along an otherwise smooth jawline.

John didn’t have time to mask the hunger etched on his face — nor was he sure he wanted to — as Sherlock opened his eyes and again locked their gazes. The hunger John saw returned nearly made his knees buckle; he wouldn’t have been surprised to find his heart had actually stopped beating.

“John …” Sherlock said, his voice rumbling to just shy of a growl as he dipped his head until their lips almost met. Then … a small laugh — warm, but still unexpected and, thus, somewhat startling — escaped Sherlock’s lips as they quirked slightly upward.

“You’re not dreaming, John,” Sherlock said.

John couldn’t mistake the warmth in Sherlock’s eyes at that distance but still felt heat suffuse his cheeks as he registered -- and mentally groaned over the fact -- that Sherlock had supplied a subtle variation to the next line of the song he obviously hadn’t deleted.

John didn’t have long to wallow in his mortification, though, before Sherlock’s lips met his in a searing kiss that did, indeed, ignite an eternal flame.


	2. Verse 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second verse, not quite the same as the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fic I've written that earned a second chapter. (Or verse, depending on how you look at it.) I'm still kind of surprised that a song with 94 words has inspired more than 1,700 words of fic from me. Still, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Thanks (again) to [Nichellen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nichellen/pseuds/Nichellen) for providing beta and Brit-picking services. And to [AtlinMerrick](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlinMerrick/pseuds/AtlinMerrick)  
> for assuring me that this fic was worth a second verse (and that people would forgive me for the earworms)!

Long moments later, John pulled back from the kiss, not really wanting to but needing to supply his brain with oxygen before it became detrimental.

At some point during the kiss, John had released Sherlock’s hand, freeing his own to explore the lithe body now pressed to his. One hand he had moved upward to cup Sherlock’s jaw, fingers just brushing the curls at the back of that alabaster neck as knuckles nudged aside an expensive cotton shirt collar that felt more like silk. The other hand he had snaked around Sherlock’s almost-too-thin waist and planted firmly at the base of his back to draw him in.

Sherlock still had his right hand in place over John’s heart, no doubt cataloging every beat of the vital organ and every minute shift in temperature between them. The other hand John had felt move to his hip before Sherlock trailed it up his ribcage and around his shoulder, holding him in place.

As if John had any intention of going anywhere.

The kiss had been a searing one, sparking quickly into something akin to a biological scorched-earth policy, and John noted with a blend of satisfaction and relief that Sherlock’s breathing was just as ragged as his, Sherlock’s pulse under John’s fingertips just as quick as his own heartbeat.

Once he had gained a semblance of control, John lifted his eyes to Sherlock’s and tried to speak. He cleared his throat and tried again after his first attempt came out as nothing more than a sound whose letters may not have been part of any known alphabet.

“I do believe we’re meant to be, Sherlock,” he said.

“Really, John? Continuing with the song theme?” Sherlock’s voice had a bit of a hitch, too, and though the words — and the slightly quirked eyebrow — would be cutting in any other situation, there was nothing in his tone to offend John.

John let his forehead fall to Sherlock’s shoulder as just a touch of embarrassment returned — until Sherlock’s next words had him jerking his head up to try to match facial expression and vocal tone to the words being spoken.

“I watch you while you are sleeping, John,” Sherlock said, low and sensual, the hint of danger behind the words sending a curl of frisson up John’s spine.

“Wait, seriously?” John sputtered a bit. “Please tell me you’re just following the lyrics.”

“Well, yes, John. I am following the lyrics,” Sherlock said. “But I do watch you while you’re sleeping. I believe you’ve watched me, too.”

“Of course I have, Sherlock. But you sleep on the sofa. In the middle of the day.”

“And you sleep in your bed, behind a locked door,” Sherlock said, grinning slightly before dipping to nip at John’s lower lip. “Mrs. Hudson obviously isn’t worried about quality indoor locks. The one on your bedroom is so easy to pick that it’d be too dull to bother with if you weren’t on the other side.”

John drew back again, giving Sherlock a look that said he hoped the comment had been a joke but knew it probably wasn’t. Then Sherlock was pulling him back in, removing the hand from John’s heart to run a gentle finger along John’s face. John pressed subtly into Sherlock’s fingers as he felt them trace across his temple and along the outer edge of his eye before Sherlock rested his palm against John’s cheek and shifted John’s head to ensure their eyes met.

“John, if you recall, you’ve also fallen asleep in your chair after cases,” Sherlock said, releasing a slight sigh that said “obvious” without actually speaking the word. “Of course I watch you. You belong to me.”

John felt the frisson ripple up his spine again, sending a shudder through his body at the emphasis Sherlock has placed on “belong”. He knew that should be a warning instead of the turn-on it was, but John found himself hoping it wasn’t just a matter of Sherlock continuing to follow the lyrics. He wanted to belong to Sherlock, to be possessed by him, as much as he wanted Sherlock to be his.

“I believe the line is ‘with me’, Sherlock,” John clarified. “You belong ‘with’ me.”

“Semantics, John.”

“Um, OK.” John stammered a not-quite agreement, deciding to leave that debate until later. A tiny voice in his head suggested he should be more bothered by the concept of belonging “to” Sherlock rather than just “with” Sherlock, but he was as honest with himself as he was others, and a louder voice simply acknowledged the truth. If Sherlock wanted John, John was his.

That thought had John dropping his eyes to Sherlock’s clavicle for a moment -- resisting the mouthwatering urge to lick across the bone and suck at the tender skin above it -- before raising them again to meet Sherlock’s.

The gaze that found his this time wasn’t a bit dulled by the kiss they’d just shared, the moment they were sharing. If anything, while it was clear Sherlock was far from unaffected by their kiss, his eyes were even more intent than usual. Their focus on John took John’s breath away and he subconsciously raised his chin as he gathered his concentration and his courage. 

“So, do you feel the same?” he asked, grateful that he now had little doubt about the answer. Still, he wanted to hear it from Sherlock, wanted absolute certainty.

“I didn’t think our kiss left any room for doubt, but perhaps your mind has been further addled by hormones,” Sherlock said. “Let me repeat myself …”

John’s instincts took over then and he tilted his head back, flicking the tip of his tongue over his lips as Sherlock lowered his head and reclaimed John’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't yet figured it out, the song is "Eternal Flame" by the Bangles. Google tells me it was a hit in both the U.S. and the U.K. (as well as several other places) in 1989, so hopefully it will be familiar. If not, the video is easy to find on YouTube.
> 
> I used the first two verses (one verse per chapter), but here are the full lyrics. I think they're all appropriate to John and Sherlock. (I just didn't get around to writing the final verse!)
> 
> Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling  
> Do you feel my heart beating  
> Do you understand  
> Do you feel the same  
> Am I only dreaming  
> Is this burning an eternal flame
> 
> I believe it's meant to be, darling  
> I watch you when you are sleeping  
> You belong with me  
> Do you feel the same  
> Am I only dreaming  
> Or is this burning an eternal flame
> 
> Say my name sun shines through the rain  
> A whole life so lonely  
> And then you come and ease the pain  
> I don't want to lose this feeling


End file.
